


Lie to Me

by wandererred



Category: Borderlands
Genre: AUgust - Freeform, Angst, Emotional Trauma, Fiona - Freeform, Gen, Guilt, Handsome Jack - Freeform, Loss, Mild Gore, Sasha - Freeform, Violence, rhys - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-24 22:02:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4936972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wandererred/pseuds/wandererred
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written in an alternate "Trust Jack" timeline. When Rhys relinquishes control over to Jack in a last-ditch effort to save his friends, but at what cost?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lie to Me

**Author's Note:**

> This was a product of my sleep-deprived brain after a long night of lurking in the August tag on tumblr. I really do swear that he is one of my favorite characters, and I am sorely upset that he is not featured more in-game! On a different note, I was noticing that 'Jack takes over Rhys' stories tend to focus solely on the trauma that it causes Rhys. I wanted to sort of shift away from that in a sense and put Rhys in a situation where he couldn't dwell on that for too long. Enjoy!

It was simple…relinquishing control to Jack.

He didn’t trust Fiona, who seemed to be faking her way through everything up until this point. She pulled a grenade out of her pocket! What else was he supposed to do? 

As Jack took control of his systems, he fell into a daze. There was a strange disconnect between what he knew was happening and what was actually transpiring before him. His hands were no longer his, and his echo eye was scanning things without his command. Rhys felt the platform shift under his feet, and suddenly Fiona’s eyes were hot on him, her shouts sounded as though they were coming from underwater. A dark laugh echoed through his brain causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up. 

"It’s going to be okay." He tried to reassure himself as the window before him shattered and gunfire echoed throughout the warehouse.

"He wouldn’t hurt anyone I cared about." He thought when Vaughn turned away from the encroaching turrets. Rhys tried to rip himself from his trance. He fought to get Jack to listen to him. He pleaded and strained against his mind, trying to claw his way back into his own head. It was no use. He would be forced to watch whatever horrors Jack wished to inflict on their enemies.

"He isn’t going to hurt us." His echo eye focused over to where August and Sasha were standing. His grip on her was unyielding. He positioned himself so that he was shielding Sasha from Jack’s gaze. 

"He wouldn’t--" A lone target floated over August’s form and he threw Sasha to the floor behind him. 

"It’s going to be okay." 

 

“Rhys! Rhys, holy shit wake up!” He was no longer upright, he could feel the cool metal floor of the facility pressed against the left side of his face. Rhys tasted blood on his lips. Vaughn was shaking him awake frantically, his shirt stained with what Rhys prayed wasn’t brain matter. 

“Hmm?” Rhys pulled his arm up to his face to wipe the back of his hand against his mouth. 

“Wake up! It’s August—the turrets—Vasquez is dead!” 

Vasquez. Rhys was slowly raising himself up on his good arm to get a better look at the facility surrounding them. The scent of iron weighed thickly in the air. Vaughn helped him into a standing position and he quickly swept his eyes through the room. Bandits were cast about everywhere, bodies contorted into unnatural positions. Those who were intact were staring into infinity with eyes cloudy and dim. Rhys turned on his heels towards the window, bullet casings and broken glass crunching under his feet. He saw Vasquez’ form draped over the opening into the room he had Fiona had been in earlier. His body was slumped awkwardly, the remaining bits of the shattered window digging into his lower body. 

He turned back as Vaughn grabbed his arm. He saw Sasha and Fiona kneeling beside August. Their hands were flying over various points on his torso. He could vaguely hear them shouting past the ringing in his ears. Their frantic orders became clearer as Vaughn dragged him closer,

“Vaughn did you get Rhys? We need him to help stop some of this bleeding.” Sasha’s voice was hard, and it cut through Rhys’ daze. She was only focusing on keeping August alive. 

“I’m here.” Rhys said shakily before kneeling down beside Fiona.

“Good. Here, where my hands were.” Fiona moved her palms towards a wound on August’s shoulder, eliciting a sharp hiss from his lips. Rhys’ blood ran through his veins like ice. He had never seen so much blood this close. He pressed his flesh hand over the wound that Fiona had abandoned and used his cybernetic hand to maintain pressure. 

“Can we move him?” Rhys asked, his eyes darting up to look at Sasha. She blinked away tears and responded, her voice cracking a bit, 

“We tried. We think a bullet hit his spine.” Vaughn kneeled down beside Rhys and grabbed August’s wrist to check his pulse. 

“Wait, let me do it.” Rhys blinked and he scanned August’s vitals. He couldn’t help the look on his face as he saw August’s blood pressure reading.

“What? What is it?” Fiona growled.

“He’s lost a lot of blood and his blood pressure is through the roof. Plus his pulse…”

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here, jackass.” August mumbled faintly. This was the first time Rhys had gotten a good look at his face. It was completely absent of all color, causing his blonde hair to contrast awkwardly with his pale complexion. His chest was rising and falling rapidly and his eyes were half-lidded as he spoke again, 

“Whatthefuckhappened?” He whispered through gritted teeth.

His eyes fell on Rhys, cold and hard. Rhys looked back to his hands, his flesh hand stained crimson with the man’s blood. 

“I-I lost control of the turrets. I’m so sorry. Oh my god I’m so sorry.” His words were running together and his chest felt so heavy with regret. He blinked away hot tears of frustration and Sasha choked out another sob. August lifted a hand to her cheek and she didn’t flinch away. 

“It’s okay, Sash,” he reassured in a whisper, “it’s going to be okay.” 

“Is there anything we can do?” Vaughn’s question was punctuated with a wet cough from August, small droplets of blood speckling Fiona’s cheek. 

Rhys figured that was their answer, they continued to silently apply pressure to as many of his wounds as possible. A small pool of blood had begun to collect underneath his back. It ran towards Sasha, soaking into the fabric covering her knee. Rhys followed it with hollow eyes. 

“Oh no.” Fiona muttered under her breath following Rhys’ gaze. 

Sasha recoiled from the hot liquid pooling near her knee. She flung her back up against the base of a statue and fisted her hands in her hair. Fiona quickly leaned over August to compensate for Sasha’s absence. 

“Sasha, get back over here and help, goddammit!” Fiona desperately cried out. 

“It’s no use, Fi! It’s not helping!” Sasha curled her clean knee up to her chest and rested her head in her hands. The room rose to a clamor as the sisters continued to console and berate eachother. August’s hand raised slowly to grab Fiona’s arm. She snapped her attention back to August. He smacked his lips together dryly before speaking, 

“She’s right.” 

Fiona sighed and reluctantly released her hands. Rhys and Vaughn followed, wiping their palms against their pants slowly. 

“What do we do?” Vaughn asked. It was a question to August more than anyone else. 

“Get me sitting,” he dropped his hand by his side and shifted his upper body uncomfortably, “on the pillar…next to Sasha.” 

Hands delicately raised August so that he was sitting and he grimaced at the change in position. Rhys supported his shoulders as Sasha pulled him closer to the base of the statue. His back was wet and sticky with gore. Rhys didn’t even want to look at his exit wounds. He was already becoming lightheaded at the trail of blood they were leaving as they dragged August’s useless legs against the wet floor. August was leaned against the pillar Sasha’s arm trapped behind his shoulders. The group let go and allowed August to fall back a couple of inches into a reclined position. He let out an uncomfortable sigh, followed by another wet hack. His shoulders shook violently with each cough. He spit away from himself and everyone in the group flinched. Sasha brought her free hand up to his face and he turned to face her. Rhys looked away from the private exchange.. Fiona brought a hand up to her eye, her wet fingers leaving a red streak against her cheek. Vaughn sat beside Rhys, passing a sad glance to his friend before looking back to Sasha and August. Sasha sniffed and a small smile played across her lips. August returned it and ran his hand against her cheek. He turned away before another cough wracked through his body. 

“Can I,“ He spat at his feet again, “Can I get a moment with Rhys?” 

“But, August, you don’t have much time.” Fiona pleaded. 

“I know that. It’s just…I…” 

“Save it. You don’t have to explain.” Sasha shifted so she was sitting on her knees. She gripped his hand tightly in her own and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. 

“Come on, Fi. Vaughn.” Sasha rose and offered a hand to her sister. Vaughn awkwardly rose to his feet and sighed. They walked behind the statue to retrieve the Gortys project Fiona had brought back with her. Rhys sat with his hands balled in his lap, at August’s side. There was a very long silence between the two men that was only disturbed by August’s shallow breaths.

“Ten Million Dollars…” August laughed gravely, stirring up another coughing fit. He wheezed in another breath before continuing, “Or Rhys, I guess.” Rhys didn’t bother looking up from his hands. He didn’t want to be here anymore.

“Look out for yourselves.” Rhys nodded, his chin touching his chest.

“Especially you. You’re a goddamned idiot.” Rhys nodded again, this time raising his head to feign eye contact with the man in front of him. Through steamy eyes he was half expecting to see a look of hatred, but all he saw was agony. 

“I know.” Rhys responded weakly, his hands tightening in his lap.

“You’ll never be good enough for her…” August trailed off slowly and Rhys cocked his head to the side. August looked at him knowingly, their gazes held for much longer than Rhys was comfortable with. 

“I sure wasn’t.” August sighed, dropping his head to his chest. Rhys bent forward to help the man lean his head back against the pillar. August cleared his throat.

“I don’t – you two are…” Rhys stammered.

“Don’t lie to a dying man, Rhys.” August drawled. He swallowed loudly and Rhys dropped his hands.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Rhys repeated, tears finally finding their way down his face. 

August’s chest rose and fell heavily, the red-stained fabric of his shirt unsticking itself from his upper body. 

“I’ll get you the girls.” Rhys rose, wiping his sleeve under his nose. 

“Thanks.” August gave Rhys a small smirk as he walked away behind the statue. Rhys gripped the sides of his arms tightly against himself.

Fiona was stroking her hand lightly against Sasha’s back when Rhys turned the corner to where they were sitting. 

“I lied to him.” Sasha repeated, her eyes puffy and cheeks stained with tear streaks. She shifted her gaze to Rhys and her eyes became cold steel. She breathed in heavily and rose to her feet. As she disappeared behind the statue, Rhys locked eyes with Fiona. He kept his arms tightly wound around himself and sat down next to her. Vaughn leaned beside Rhys, his gaze fixed straight ahead.

“It’s not your fault.” Fiona’s assurance felt empty. She played with the core in her lap, running her fingers across its smooth surface. Rhys looked up and saw tears beginning to form in the corners of her eyes. “Well I mean, not entirely. I don’t know.” She blinked up to the ceiling and a tiny droplet fell out of the corner of her eye. 

Rhys raised up one of the corners of his mouth and said, “Thanks. I guess.” He sighed shakily and leaned against the statue. His brain was quiet. Jack hadn’t reared his ugly head since the incident, but this only made Rhys feel more alone. 

They could hear sniffling from the other side, as well as hushed conversation. 

He heard Sasha’s voice, barely above a whisper, likely muffled by her own hand, “I’m so sorry this happened. I don’t know. I’m so sorry, August.” 

“Shhh, Sash.” August’s tone was much softer than it had been with Rhys, he was comforting her the best he could. Her shaky sobs were making Fiona’s shoulders tense. Rhys reached a hand out and touched her shoulder hesitantly. She looked to him, her expression fading from anger to understanding. She scanned her eyes over the tear streaks on his face and huffed out a breathy sigh. She closed her eyes and shook her head, turning back to look out into the room. 

There was a long, nagging silence from the other side of the statue. Rhys shifted against the floor uncomfortably, only now realizing how long he had been sitting between Fiona and Vaughn. 

August didn’t have much time left.

“August?” Sasha kept her voice low, a hint of fear glancing over her words.

“Hey, I’m still here, Sash.” His voice was thick and raspy.

“I’m sorry.” 

“I love you.” August breathed out slowly.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Sasha’s voice trembled.

August sighed, “It’s okay, I’m still here…” There was a long, slow sigh from the other side of the statue, followed by nothing but silence. The trio on the other side of the statue shared a stare, eyes wide as they could only guess what they would hear next. 

Sasha came around the other side of the statue by Fiona, August’s gun in her right hand. 

“Sasha.” Fiona said, her phrasing somewhere between a question and a warning.

“Relax, Fi. I’m not going to go crazy.” Sasha didn’t directly look at anyone in the group. She turned away from them almost robotically, her motions appearing like she was overcompensating. Her steps were a little too wide, and her hips were swaying just a little too much. She continued her charade until she assumed she was out of their eyesight. 

That was when Rhys heard a faraway thud against metal. 

He sprang to his feet, following Sasha’s footprints through the viscera. He found her dropped to her knees, her hands clutching desperately at her shoulders. A silent scream was painted on her lips. Rhys dropped down beside her and allowed his hands to hover above her shoulders. He was afraid to touch her. She was strong, but something in him knew the wrong move could break her. He decided to rest his flesh hand against the middle of her back.

Sasha shrieked loudly before she collapsed more into herself and fell into a heap on the floor. Her body was wracked by her sobs causing Rhys’ hand to bounce against her spine. He stroked his hand up and down her back slowly. 

"Please don’t cry." He thought to himself. He looked up to the ceiling in an attempt to blink his own hot tears out of his eyes. 

In between hiccups, Rhys could barely make out what Sasha was saying, “M’think – I – loved ‘im.” She cried, pressing her cheek harder into the floor. 

“I know, Sasha.” A single tear fell down his nose and onto the floor beside her. They sat together for a long time, grief hanging heavy in the air surrounding them.

**Author's Note:**

> It was really weird to research what gunfire does when it hits certain parts of the abdomen. I do have to admit that coughing up blood was a little theatrical, but I tried to keep everything as medically accurate as some reliable Google searches would allow. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think, and I hope you enjoyed having your heart trampled on!


End file.
